


On A Scar

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Series: Kisses [3]
Category: Carol (2015), The House with a Clock in its Walls (2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Girls Kissing, Historical References, Intimacy, Kissing, Magic, Scars, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 00:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20001289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: Late one night, naked and bathed in lamplight, the two of them share an intimate moment of sorrow and comfort.





	On A Scar

It's a quiet evening, getting late enough now that she can feel tiredness and satisfaction fuzzy in her temples as Carol shifts in the sheets, gazing up at Florence who is smiling down at her with fondness. There's a light in her eyes, and her hair is tumbling down around the bare skin of her shoulders, and in the warm light of the bedside lamp, Carol would be prepared to swear she has never been more beautiful.

Florence chuckles softly, and it's enough to startle Carol out of her reverie. She tilts her head, blonde curls tumbling to brush the skin of Florence's stomach. 

"What?"

Florence lifts a hand to gently cup Carol's cheek, then slides it back gently to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. 

"...Nothing. I suppose... I'm just... not used to the way you look at me."

Carol raises an eyebrow, still smiling, head braced on one hand where she's half-lying over Florence's body, basking in the warmth and the feeling of skin on skin which is still so new between them. 

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No. It's... quite nice, actually."

"How did Maurice look at you?"

"Oh, it was similar but it wasn't... the same?"

"...Sorry, that might have been an insensitive question."

"No, I appreciate that you don't... pretend he didn't exist."

"We both have pasts. It wouldn't be right to deny them. Your past is part of who you are. Mine is part of who I am. I'm not interested in... pretending that either of us isn't... who we are. I love you. As you are. With all your shadows and scars."

Florence pauses for a moment, and then leans closer, resting her forehead on Carol's for a long moment and taking a deep, slow breath. She kisses her, soft and sweet and lingering a moment before she once more settles back against the pillows with a satisfied smile dancing on her lips in a way that makes Carol laugh despite herself. She loves moments like that, tucking each one away deep in her heart to hold onto, their rarity making them all the more precious. Their frequency is increasing, though, and that is something that Carol treasures.

She shifts a little in the sheets and strokes her fingertips lightly down Florence's body, from the base of her sternum down to just above her belly button. She doesn't trace lower. Not yet. She can feel Florence watching her and the concern and embarassment and guilt that still dance on the edge of her lover's senses. Despite the intimacy they've shared it's still something that's awkward between them. 

She likes Florence from this angle. From any angle, really, but this is a particularly nice one, with the bedside light painting bare skin gold and dappled with shadow, and the soft swell of her breasts with coral pink nipples which Carol loves the taste of. She also appreciates how slow things can be between them. Life out here in this small town is so much quieter than the city had been and after everything... it's refreshing. They have all the time in the world to explore this thing between them, and it's... nice. Like starting a whole new life, or waking up from a dream to find a reality which is so much sweeter. Their lives fit together like puzzle pieces in ways she never expected and there's a peace here she can feel in her soul.

Her fingers brush a little lower, and Florence's hand comes up to cover hers, to trap it in place as she tenses a little, but Carol waits, patiently, watching. 

"You don't... have to do that. If they... bother you..."

To an outsider it might seem strange. There is no blemish on the expanse of skin lower down, no obvious sign to explain the tension, the fear on the witch's face, but nonetheless it is there. 

Carol nuzzles just above where their fingers rest and presses the lightest kiss to the skin there, her breath skittering over it and making all the hairs on Florence's arms stand on end as she shivers. 

"...I don't mind. Please let me?"

Florence bites her lip, watching, a little crease between her eyebrows as she reluctantly eases her hand away, and Carol can feel the pounding of her heart this close, the way she's resting across Florence's hips, with her hand only a few inches below her ribs... but there is trust on her lover's face, mingling with fear, and Carol keeps her eyes on Florence's as she slowly, gently, traces her fingers lower. 

The skin might look perfect but she can feel thick ugly ridges which lurk beneath the concealment charm. Carol traces them lightly, trying to ignore the ache in her chest, but she knows how important it is not to deny this, to pretend it never happened. She knows the guilt and pain which still twists in Florence's heart even though this is nothing for her to feel guilty about, nothing for her to be ashamed of, nothing that was her fault at all. She still remembers when Florence told her, the brittle yet proud set of her shoulders in the face of potential rejection or worse. She remembers watching this incredible, beautiful, strong woman fighting to hold herself together after horrors which nobody should ever have had to experience. Sometimes she marvels that Florence is alive at all, and tries not to think about what might have happened if they hadn't met. 

Although she would never have known what she was missing, it's still not something she wants to dwell on. 

Florence's hand comes back up to cover hers again, and Carol looks up, questioning silently.

"...I could hide them better. If you wan- if you would prefer. I... this was the best I could do before my magic returned and it was... enough for me not to have to look at them. I never expected... to have a partner again. I never expected to have to... think about their effect on someone else. So if you... if they bother you. I could hide them better. I can't make them... go away, but I can make it look and feel like there's nothing there, so you don't have to touch them, so you can pretend..."

Her voice cracks a little but her jaw is still set, and the light from the lamp is glinting off tears caught like diamonds in her lashes, shining against the deep blue of her eyes like stars against the cosmos. 

Carol watches for a long moment, paralysed with indecision. She doesn't know what to say really, because all of this is messy and painful and anything has the potential to hurt, but she refuses absolutely to do anything which might make Florence feel like she is anything less than perfect as she is now. Instead she eventually bows her head and kisses the knots and ridges which lie unseen beneath the enchantment. 

"...I understand why you hide them. I understand why you would never want to be confronted by the sight of them again, to be reminded. And if you would prefer to hide them deeper, to all but wipe them from existence... I would support you in that. I might even be able to help. I know I'm nowhere near as powerful as you are, but concealment is my talent after all. But I don't want you ever to feel like you need to deny who you are or what happened to you for my sake. I don't want you to fear my disgust or rejection. I don't want you to feel like you are anything less than perfect, and worthy, and deserving of love just as you are. I love you. Here and now, as the woman you are, no less whole and no less perfect. I don't want to ask you to change."

A single tear spills over as Florence closes her eyes, and Carol can feel her shaking, as she takes a breath and nods slowly, fighting for a moment to steady herself. When her eyes open again they're deep enough to drown in, like the sea under a cloudless sky full of stars. 

"...Thank you. I love you."

Carol smiles, slow and sweet and warm as sunrise, and she presses one more quick kiss to the hidden scars before she leans up properly to claim her lips, and Florence offers no resistance to the hand that comes up to cradle the back of her head, fingers laced in her hair, tilting into that kiss like a drowning woman seeking air. 

When they break apart, she's breathing fast again and there are a few more tracks on her cheeks although her eyes are dry, and Carol strokes Florence's hair back gently, so much closer now, still braced across her, one hand on the mattress on the other side even as she's now sat up from her previous reclining position.

She waits until Florence's breathing has calmed a little and combs her fingers through the long silver-blonde strands, waiting for Florence to look at her again. 

"They're part of you. And I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about the origin of Florence's scars it's revealed in Chapter 28 of One Night. Please do heed the warnings on that chapter for discussions of the holocaust and related topics.


End file.
